Be Still My Soul: The Cadence of Grace, Book 1 (7 page)

Each of them glanced at her. All except Ruth. Lonnie’s heart thudded against her chest in slow, heavy beats. Gideon’s sister Mae squeezed his hand and started up the steps, leaving Gideon lingering outside.

She leaned toward Lonnie. “I’m looking forward to being sisters,” she whispered. Her short lashes framed a pair of honest eyes.

Unable to speak, Lonnie simply nodded, and Mae disappeared into the packed building. When Gideon passed by without so much as a glance in her direction, Lonnie gazed at the sky and clung to her aunt’s words.

It felt strange hanging on to her pa’s arm as they made their way to the front of the church. Every face turned toward her. While some smiled, others frowned, wrinkles draping their angry pouts. Lonnie was grateful she could not hear their thoughts.

With her arm over her pa’s, she forced her feet forward. Still, she could not match his pace, and her pa gave her a little tug. Lonnie turned to see her ma’s smiling face and tear-stained cheeks.

Then her pa halted.

Lonnie looked into his eyes as he released her arm from his. He met her gaze and blinked quickly, his eyes wider than she’d ever seen. Was that regret she saw?

But just as quick, the brown depths hardened and he looked away. His stone face revealed nothing.

Her body seemed to move of its own accord as Lonnie slid her arm from his. Rain pattered on the roof, muting the thundering of her heart. So this was what her pa felt like all the time. Soon to be trapped in a loveless marriage, she feared that bitterness would take hold of her as well.

When her pa turned his back, nothing separated her from Gideon’s outstretched hand. She stared at her pa’s shoulder, silently willing him to turn around. Whisk her away. But he sat, pressed his spine against the pew, and took her ma’s hand in his. His eyes never lifted from the floor.

Cold fingers grazed hers, and Lonnie turned, fighting the urge to pull away. Stale air pressed against her lungs. She scarcely heard the preacher begin. Gideon’s grip was gentle, and Lonnie felt the soft brush of cotton from a thin strip of cloth wrapped around his knuckles. She studied their hands, finally glancing up at his face. He simply stared at the preacher, and as if he felt her watching him, a muscle flexed in his jaw.

When the time came, she repeated the vows she was told to say. She shifted her feet, which refused to stand still, and heaved in a shaky breath.

A man coughed.

A woman quieted a fussy baby.

Hot chills climbed her spine and spread up into her cheeks. She could hear them. Hear the lies and the rumors in her head. Lonnie knew every eye bored into her back, and she heard their thoughts.

She’s lucky that boy’s marrying her now
.

She tried to shake away the lies. She had heard them spoken too many times in her mind over the last two days. God knew the truth, and it was all that mattered. Lonnie straightened and tilted her gaze to the window. The preacher droned on.

Lord, is this what You expect of me?
No reply came. Slowly, she blinked up at the gray light. Had He forsaken her?

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling and tried to keep the tears from finding their way past her lashes. She was drowning. In the middle of a crowded room, she was sinking, and no one would stand up and save her. Not her pa. Not her ma. Lowering her head, Lonnie stared at the broad hand wrapped around hers, the fingers and lines unfamiliar.

The preacher cleared his throat. “Do you have rings?”

Lonnie withdrew a handkerchief from the lace at her sleeve. Inside lay her grandfather’s ring. A keepsake she’d had since she was a girl. And she was about to give it to Gideon O’Riley, with his greedy hands and heart. She turned to her groom. A pain started low in her gut as she held out the treasured token.

Gideon thrust his hand into his pants pocket, and his cheeks flushed as he switched to the other. A pair of earnest eyes met hers. The crowd chuckled. Lonnie watched as his ears tinted red.

“Here,” he said, finally retrieving a small tin circle.

Lonnie studied the lines of his face. His hair was tidy and his jaw cleanly shaven. He hardly looked like the same man. His lips creased, matching the pensive brow that furrowed in concentration as he slid the thin ring over her fingertip. Lonnie found his eyes. They were focused on her. But his face held no joy. She moistened her lips as the cool band settled into place.

The reverend was closing the ceremony, and not caring if it was
proper, Lonnie scanned the crowd until she spotted her aunt. She swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her. Sarah nodded once. The slow motion was a reminder of the words she had spoken outside. Lonnie’s vision blurred, and when tears fell she no longer cared what others thought. No one had saved her. Her ma, her pa—they were all silent. They had abandoned her. She looked at Gideon.

The preacher spoke, his words final. Lonnie’s heart threatened to break in two. She and Gideon were bound together.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss yer bride.”

Her breath quickened as Gideon swallowed visibly. With a motion perfected by experience, he leaned in and kissed her. The act was so swift it sent a few chuckles through the pews. When the clapping began, Lonnie wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.

Suddenly, she felt Gideon’s mouth near her ear. “Let’s go outside,” he murmured. She weaved through the milling crowd. Gideon’s hand gripped her elbow, helping her forward.

The clouds had parted, and the sun was bright and warm. Lonnie glanced around the churchyard decorated only with dried summer grasses and early autumn leaves. She’d always imagined her wedding would have peach cobbler and plenty of waltzes. Her friends would have toasted to the happy couple, and she would want this day to last as long as possible. She would have danced into the night with her new husband, until the stars lighted their path home. But when Gideon’s shoulder brushed against hers, she knew that dream was gone.

H
er pack swung back and forth, plump with most everything she needed—all except comfort and a bit of courage. Those she stored in the depths of her heart, placed there by the One who would hear her prayers. Lonnie followed Gideon up the path to the unfamiliar cabin and clung to that fragile reminder, hoping it would be enough to get her through.

Gideon glanced over his shoulder, his gaze dropping to the sack in her hand. It was the third time he’d looked back on the walk home. Finally, he slowed, letting her catch up. “I can carry that for you.”

“I’m all right,” Lonnie said, though the sack was heavy.

When she stumbled on her hem, his hand caught hold of her elbow, and just as quickly, he released her. She hoisted the hem away from the mud and let out a frustrated breath. She’d just have to scrub it out later.

“We’re almost home,” he said.

Home
. Lonnie slowed. “To your pa’s cabin,” she blurted out.

“For the time being.”

What did it matter? Wherever she lived, it would be away from her ma and her beloved brothers and sisters. Would she see them often?
Lonnie gripped her sack tighter. She doubted her family would be very welcome in the O’Riley home.

Like her own home, the cabin was tucked into the hillside. Charlie and John stood on the porch, leaning casually against the railing, smug grins lighting their faces. They’d beaten the wedding couple home. With so many guests offering warm wishes in the churchyard, Lonnie and Gideon had been among the last to leave.

Charlie and John disappeared inside the house, and voices drifted out, rising and falling with excitement. Gideon caught hold of the front door and held it for Lonnie. She froze in the doorway, his shoulder bumping hers. The room fell silent, and she glanced around at half a dozen faces that were all staring at her.

Gideon spoke first, his voice flat. “Y’all know Lonnie. Lonnie, this is Billie and Sadie.” He pointed to a pair of children sitting side by side in an oversize rocker. “They’re the little’ns.” He motioned with his thumb toward the young woman at the stove. “You know Mae.”

Mae flashed a warm smile as she moved a pot of coffee to the table.

“And you know my brothers John and Charlie.”

The O’Riley boys smirked.

“It’s nice to see you all again,” Lonnie forced.

When Gideon stepped around her, she suddenly felt cold. “You know my pa and ma. And that’s little Sue.” He spoke without looking at Lonnie.

Ruth smiled weakly and bounced the baby in her arms. When she didn’t say anything, Bill spoke up. “It’s a right mighty pleasure to have you with us, Lonnie.”

Lonnie shifted her feet.

“Bet you two are hungry.” Bill looked at his wife, who handed the baby to him.

“I’ll get supper together right away.” Ruth moved to the stove, muddy hems swaying.

Before turning back to the stove, Mae offered Lonnie another smile.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Lonnie asked weakly, rubbing her palms together.

Ruth let out a single, harsh laugh. “What are you plannin’ on doing in that dress of yours? Get bacon grease all over it?”

Lonnie’s breath caught. She looked to Gideon in time to see him take a slow breath. Mae pursed her lips. Ruth puffed her chest and glanced away.

“Well,” Lonnie stammered. “I just thought I would make myself useful.”

“You can put your things in here.” Mae spoke up, her voice tender. She stepped toward a door and waved for Lonnie to follow. “I put hot water in the washbasin when I got home.” The door creaked as she pulled it nearly closed. “It might be cold now, but—”

“It’s perfect.” Lonnie yanked her striped apron from the rough sack and did her best to shake out the wrinkles. The worn-out fabric felt good as she secured it around her waist.

Mae cracked the door just far enough to squeeze through, then closed it behind her. In no hurry to leave the solitary room, Lonnie removed the shawl from her shoulders. She folded it gently before setting it on a chair.

Her wedding ring glinted. Lonnie turned the ring around on her finger. She held it up to the window, studying it in the dusky light of evening. It was only made of tin, but it was pretty all the same.

The air was warmer when she stepped from the bedroom and accepted the stack of plates Mae handed her. The littlest children
watched in silence as Lonnie set the table around their poky elbows and curious stares.

Lonnie saw little of Ruth other than her slumped shoulders and wrinkled mouth pasted in a frown, but Mae was always quick to answer Lonnie’s questions and even offered her a cup of tea from the steaming kettle on the back of the stove. When Ruth called everyone to the table, Lonnie sat beside Gideon, his arm pressed to hers on the crowded bench. She wanted to slide away, but with the youngest children on her other side, she was smashed into place.

Bill bowed his head for prayer, and the family clasped hands. Bill eyed Gideon, who hesitated before cupping Lonnie’s fingers in his wide palm. He held them loosely.

She tried to swallow a swell of emotions.

When Bill finished, Ruth scooped food onto each tin plate, finishing with Lonnie. Her lips taut, Ruth glanced to her son. “Y’all will be on your own soon, I reckon.”

Gideon cleared his throat. “Yes ma’am.” He failed to mask the surprise in his voice.

“Well”—Ruth sweetened her tone as the wooden spoon
thunked
inside the empty pot—“I know you will.” She waved a hand in the air. “Not like you had much time to plan.”

Lonnie glanced down at her portion, and guilt soured her appetite. She couldn’t look at Gideon’s ma for the rest of the meal, and when she finally managed to finish her supper, Charlie and John had already complained about still being hungry.

When dishwater littered the yard and a stack of scrubbed plates was tucked away, the family sat around the fire and Bill read a chapter from the Bible. His voice echoed off the walls, strong and clear. Never once did he stumble over the easy words as her pa would have done. Lonnie
sat in the rocking chair, her feet firmly planted on the floor, determined to keep the squeaky wood from drawing attention to her. Despite her efforts, she felt Gideon watching her.

When the coals in the fire were all that remained, Bill stretched and yawned. “Well, that’s that.” He stood, beat the back of his tobacco pipe against his palm, and set it on the mantle. “Time to turn in.” He nodded his good-night to the others and disappeared into his bedroom. Ruth ordered Mae to tuck the little ones in before she followed her husband. A sleeping baby Sue nestled in her arms.

Mae drew her siblings over to the washbasin, where they each stood on tiptoe to rinse their hands and faces.

“Well, good night,” John mumbled to no one in particular. He stood and stretched thin arms overhead.

Lonnie’s heart leaped into her throat.
Stay. Please stay
. She watched as John blew out all but one of the few remaining candles. The room dimmed.

Don’t leave me alone
.

But Lonnie held her tongue. “Good night,” she said softly.

John and Charlie headed for their bedroom. The room Lonnie had changed in. The room where all her belongings lay. Gideon reached out his foot. Charlie tripped and stumbled forward, catching himself before he fell. He spun around and stepped forward, eyes narrow. “What’s the idea, Gid?”